Paw Prints on His Heart
by KorosuKa
Summary: After making a little mistake, England loses her human form temporarily. She has to survive as a cat now, trapped outside. Luckily, Russia finds her and takes her in. Unknowing about who watches him behind the cat eyes, he allows her to become a part of his life. Fem!England x Russia
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter I (Introduction)_

Red and brown coloured leaves were carried away on the breath of the wind. The air was slightly cold, and little droplets already started falling down. Ominous clouds crawled their way over the London sky. Two bottle green eyes stared at the veins of the city, drawn with asphalt. They were mostly filled with cars, hurried passers-by, and chattering ladies. The papers on England's office screamed for her attention, and slowly she gave in.

She was bent over all kinds of documents, when a little creature flew over to her. It had short, curly, scarlet hair and two light blue, concerned eyes. The fairy sat down on her shoulder, causing England's attention to falter once again. She had a feeling she knew why one of her favourite fairies had decided to come over.

"Hey Blythe, what brought you here?"

The little fairy sighed, "Remember the little accident that happened a few weeks ago?"

England looked at the pen in her hand, knowing very well what 'little accident' the fairy was referring to. It had happened merely a week ago, when a spell had gone wrong. One of the fairies had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The poor thing had lost her wings, which was terrible for these creatures. Of course England was blamed, for not being careful enough, or even for doing it on purpose.

She nodded slowly, "Yes, I do."

"I'm afraid the others are planning something," Blythe mumbled.

England knew they wouldn't accept her mistake like that. They were right that she should've been more careful, but she had apologized enough times. She had known them for a long time, but they hadn't been best friends all the time. Some fairies could be very vengeful.

"That's not very convenient. Do you have any idea of what they'll be doing?"

The fairy shrugged, "I'm afraid not. They refuse to tell me. I fear they have come up with a rather mean or even dangerous plan."

Of course they wouldn't tell Blythe. They knew well enough that she'd warn England.

"I'll be careful. Thanks, Blythe."

England took another paper and returned to her work. Blythe sighed softly, having a bad feeling about what the other fairies would come up with. The fairy left England alone again, hoping that nothing too awful would happen.

The darkness of the night slowly covered London. At about 10pm England decided she'd go to bed, knowing that tomorrow would be another troublesome day. Tomorrow was the last day of the conference, which took place in her capital. She tried to think of the day after the conference. She'd read a book, drink some tea, and not be bothered by America's loud remarks or France's groping.

The next day started like any other day. The meeting passed slowly but surely. Luckily it only lasted until 1pm, so they could leave before lunch. Some nations preferred to lunch together, but England didn't feel like hanging around others today. A little headache had been bothering her all morning. She sneaked away before anyone could ask her anything. Since she was already lingering through the streets of London, she decided she could get herself a nice meal somewhere. While strolling through the streets, a sudden sharp pain struck her. Her vision went black for a moment, and she grabbed her head. Her stomach turned, and she felt her legs starting to tremble dangerously underneath the weight of her body. She reached for the wall for support, but stumbled and nearly fell. She blinked, trying to clear her blurry view. She was in a little, empty street. Her legs gave in, and she fell on the ground. Her body shook heavily, and she had no idea what was going on. Everything went pitch black.

* * *

There goes the first little chapter. The other chapters will be longer and more intersting, I'll be updating every week, most likely during the weekend. If you have any comments, interesting cat-stories or ideas, feel free to write them in a comment; I'd love to hear them!

**Review~**


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter II_

* * *

_Pussy cat, pussy cat_  
_Where have you been?_  
_I've been to London_  
_To look at the Queen_

* * *

Darkness. Silence. A tingling feeling went through her body. Her head ached. Everything ached. She tried moving her hand, opening her eyes. She felt very slight, weak movement. Her eyelids slowly opened. Her view was a little blurry, but it got sharper again. She could tell she was lying on the ground.

England couldn't remember very well where she was. It seemed like she hadn't been lying here for too long. It was early evening. Something felt odd about her body. She slowly tried to move more. Carefully she lifted her head from the ground. She tried to push herself up, but was surprised to find out that she didn't get very far. She swore she was supporting herself on her fully stretched arms, but she was still so close to the ground. Did she shrink? The whole world seemed so big. When she tried to stand on her legs, she stumbled and fell. It wasn't really painful since she had been barely a feet above the ground. Feeling slightly annoyed, she looked at her body.

_Oh bloody hell no_, she wanted to say, but all that came out was a little, innocent, "Meow."

She wasn't a cat. This was not right. She was dreaming. Had she accidentally used any drugs? Had anyone drugged her? Was she hallucinating? Maybe she wasn't even awake, and this was all a nightmare. She tried to stand up, coordinating her legs differently now. She wobbled a bit, but managed to stand. This was horrible, she realised. How the hell was she supposed to function like this? How the hell did she even turn into a cat? The answer pierced her mind. The fairies. When she became human again, they were going to pay so hard for this. She hoped it was a temporary spell, but the clearer her thoughts and memories became, the more she could feel it was a long-lasting thing. This would take weeks, if not months. A shiver ran over her spine. How would she continue living?

The pile of clothes she was standing on were her clothes, but when she looked around, she couldn't see her purse. She mentally cursed thieves, herself, and fairies. She couldn't even go home anymore. She didn't have the keys, and wasn't like she would be able to open a door anyway.

She realised that she didn't have many options left. One of the possibilities was that she would have to spend the coming few weeks or months outside, probably hungry, and in the cold of the coming winter weather. She could also try to convince some passer-by to keep her, and stay with a stranger until she'd transform back into a human. This didn't sound like a very good idea to her though, since it was dangerous to stay with strangers, and it would also be dangerous if she'd transform back into her original form, in front of humans. There's no reasonable explanation for a cat transforming into a human. She'd probably have to kill them or something.

There were still a few nations in London, on the other hand. If she could stay with one of them, maybe she'd even be able to show them who she actually was. It'd be embarrassing, but safe. Even if they did not know, they'd most likely be her best chance for a safe and comfortable survival. Sadly enough, that was also the least possible to happen.

England started to move forward. Even though this would be another tricky adventure, she was planning to go through the city, checking all kinds of places where she'd expect the other nations to be. She was still walking a bit wobbly, but was ready to get somewhere. Luckily she could adjust rather quickly to her new body. Like this, she started to make her way through the city.

She had passed the McDonald's, some other fast food restaurants, as well as fancier restaurants, and had eventually finished somewhere on the endless streets that were decorated with discotheques and clubs. She had hoped to see America, Canada, even France would be fine, as long as some nation would be willing to take her. England tried not to think about what life would be like as the pet of one of them. There didn't seem to be anything positive about that, except if you purely looked at the facts that it'd be the safest. Canada wouldn't even be so bad, but he had a polar bear. That thing would eat her. She sat on the corner of a busy street, hiding herself a little from the many strangers. She had gotten dirty, and a car had nearly hit her. If just some nations would show up, that'd make her very happy.

As if some power from above pitied her and took compassion, her wish was granted. The laughter of a few nations tickled the air. She turned around. There was no way she would be mistaken. She had heard their annoying laughs for centuries; it had to be them.

"Kesesese! It'll be awesome!"

"Mais oui, and with a bit of luck we'll have some plaisanterie as well, ohonhonhon~"

"What do you mean, with a bit of luck? I have the power of my awesome! I don't need luck!"

"Like last time, fusososo~"

"Ouais, that was very awesome!"

"Shut up! That was not my fault!"

England almost jumped from happiness. She quickly slalomed her way through all the people, until she reached them. She grabbed the leg of whoever was closest to her.

"Eh? C'est quoi ça?" France mused as he looked down.

He wrinkled his face in disgust, and tried to shake her of. She let go, and looked up. She desperately wanted to say something, but only meowed. France huffed, and walked on. Prussia laughed, and made some silly comment she couldn't understand properly. She quickly went to Spain, and poked him with her paw.

"Gato malo, don't do that, little kitty," Spain said, wagging his finger, as if that would make him look frightening enough to make her listen.

She meowed again, pleading, hoping she'd look somewhat cute. She actually hadn't seen herself at all, except for her paws. She knew she was dirty too, though Spain didn't seem affected by her at all. Last try. She went to Gilbert, poking his leg as well. His red orbs looked down upon her. He didn't even look disgusted with her. She knew he could be rough, but he liked animals.

"Attention, Gilbert! Le chat probably wants your precious little bird. He looks hungry", France said.

England scowled at Françis when she saw Prussia step back. The little bird on his shoulder tweeted happily.

"Dumme Katze," Gilbert said, and he turned around to go away.

No, they couldn't go away! They couldn't leave her like this, right? They had to turn around and take her with them. Who knows what would happen otherwise? She tried following them. France turned around with annoyance in his clear blue eyes. "That's it! Go away! Stop stalking us! Kssht!"

Antonio tugged France's sleeve, "Don't bother the cat, he can't enter the clubs anyway, sì?"

They quickly continued walking, and entered some club. She tried to sneak in. They wouldn't get rid of her that easily. As she subtly tried to make her way in, she was unpleasantly surprised when something grabbed her. A big, unfriendly hand jerked her off the ground, and kicked her back to the opening of the club. The security guard hit her pretty hard, and she quickly stumbled away. That had hurt, a lot. She shivered. It was cold. When looking up at the sky, she saw it was already late. She sighed, and wobbled to somewhere else. She was wobbling peacefully, when two bright lightly suddenly shone upon her.

Startled, she looked aside. She heard the noise of squealing brakes, as the vehicle tried to stop. Her heart skipped a beat. The moment after that she tried to run. The car was too close. She stopped, almost crashing into the front tire. She felt the harsh, prickly pain tearing through her left, front paw. The car finally stopped moving. Her heart still beat like crazy. She ran away, limping because of her aching paw.

She trembled. That was too close. Never again would she cross a street like that. Her paw sent waves of pain through her body. She was afraid it would fall off. There was a night store with not too many people passing by. She sat down near it, and tried to calm herself down. She shot a fearful glance at her paw. The pain was burning terribly. It was bleeding, and swollen. This definitely wasn't very healthy, and this was just her first day as a cat. She sighed, and lay down. The moon peeked through some clouds. At least it wasn't raining. Then again, it was getting really cold. In the middle of the crowd, it had been warmer. She closed her eyes, and tried to forget the pain, cold, hunger, discomfort and others. Sooner or later everything would go back to normal, she promised herself.

* * *

**Translations:**

_French_  
Mais oui = But yes (but of course)  
Plaisanterie = Fun  
Ouais = Yeah (slang/dialect alike)  
C'est quoi ça? = What's that?  
Le chat = The cat

_Spanish_  
Gato malo = Bad cat

_German_  
Dumme Katze = Stupid cat

* * *

So, that was chapter two. It's longer, and I hope it pleases you. Clever humans turn magnificent cats, but England still has to firgure out how the whole being-a-cat-thing works. Wish her good luck, she'll need it!  
How was the Bad Touch Trio? They don't hate cats, but if you're going to party, you don't want to be othered by a stray cat, hm? And poor little England didn't notice the car.

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	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter III_

* * *

_Pussy cat, pussy cat_  
_What did you do there?_  
_I frightened a little mouse_  
_Under her chair._

* * *

The next day started awesomely. It had started raining, England was still a cat, and nobody seemed to care for a stray cat like her. She spent the first few hours trying to find something to eat, wandering through the streets she knew so well. She had found a young couple that had put their hotdogs aside. While they were making out, she quickly grabbed the leftover of the sausage and ran for her life. She was kind of proud when she stopped, and ate it. It wasn't a proper way to get food, but she was relieved to know that there was a way to get some. England firmly refused to eat anything from the trashcan.

She had continued wandering through the city, occasionally trying to get some food, for another few hours. Some cats had chased her away, but they luckily hadn't done much more. She had tried to approach them in a friendly manner, but they seemed to be very offended with her. It was still better than the homeless dog she had bumped into. The filthy beast had followed her through several streets. Meanwhile she nearly got run over by a cyclist, almost ran into a wall, and finally escaped by climbing up a tree. Everything had been horribly painful since her paw still hurt really badly. She felt her body start to heal itself, but it was slow and painful.

It was already afternoon, when she returned to the same convenience store of last night. It'd probably open within a few hours. She sighed, and sat down again. She hadn't seen any nations anymore, even though they usually stayed a few days longer. Most of them probably had a hangover from yesterday, and were only functioning since noon. She stared tiredly at the people and the cars that passed by. If only she'd at least have a more comfortable place to stay than here. Her coat was dirty, but she refused to wash herself. She wouldn't lick off the dirt, definitely not.

Minutes passed, and eventually the night store opened again. She felt dispirited. The coming few weeks or months, this would be what her everyday life would look like. Maybe staying with a stranger wasn't even so bad compared to this. She really refused to keep this up. Of course she had lived poorly before, of course there had been many days where she had just dwelled through crowds, over streets or paths, without a real goal. This was different though, because she was a cat. She had lost the benefits of being a human.

Some people entered and left the shop. She didn't care anymore. She didn't want to see their contemptuous glare. One man left the shop, and instead of going away, he leaned against the wall of the shop, right next to her. She heard him pick something out of his sack. Maybe cigarettes, oh, she longed for a cigarette now, though that was pretty impossible as well. She looked at the man. She blinked a few times. This must have been a joke. He was tall, with pale blonde hair. He wore a coat that almost reached to his knees, and a long scarf covered his neck. In his hand he held a bottle of vodka. His phone went off. It was some melody she didn't know. He answered the call.

"Здравствуйте", he said casually.

"Да." He took a sip of the bottle while listening, "Да."

He hung up, and put his phone away. As he looked down to search his pocket, England could clearly see his violet eyes.

She carefully came closer to him. She really didn't want to be kicked by a man like Russia. Carefully she poked his leg. Immediately she had drawn his attention, and he looked down on her. She felt a little relief, when he didn't look at her in disgust. There was a curious emotion playing on his face.

"Meow," she softly tried.

He bent down to her. She looked at him with hope shimmering in her big, round eyes. He looked a lot less threatening when he had lowered himself to her. Russia carefully stroked her head. She didn't like being touched, but allowed him to do so.

"Aw, are you lost little one?" he asked.

She meowed again; a little smile curved his lips.

"But you don't have a collar, kitty. Either your owner is an idiot, or you don't have a home, da?"

He carefully patted her head, and then took her in his arms. She tried to get out of his grip, but then she allowed him to hold her. Looking down on the streets, she realised how big he was. He held her against his chest.

"You're dirty, I hope for you that I'll be able to wash that off my coat", he said, more to himself than to her.

He held her with one hand, and took his sack with groceries, England assumed it wasn't more than vodka in his other hand. He carried her to his hotel, which was only a few streets further. He stopped a few meters away from the hotel.

"Cats are not allowed at the hotel," he said, and she looked up at him with fear. "Luckily I don't care. I can't walk in there like this though."

He put her on the ground, right in front of him. She didn't move, and watched how he took his jacket off. There were only a few people in the street, who seemed to be minding their own business. He picked her up, his arm against her chest, and covered her with his coat. Just like that, he continued making his way into the hotel. She could barely breathe, but didn't dare to move. She feared Russia's reaction over the lack of oxygen. He only removed the coat when they seemed to have entered his room. He took her to the little bathroom, and threw his coat immediately in the corner of the bathroom, in a bin with some other clothes. He put her down in the sink. Quickly he pulled up his sleeves. He let the water run, and with his free hand he took a washcloth. He put a little soap on it, and then suddenly pushed her in water. She let out a loud, unhappy meow, and grabbed his wrist in an attempt to pull herself out. Her nails dug deep into his skin, but he didn't seem to be bothered by it at all.

_The water is bloody cold!_ She yelled mentally, hissing loudly.

He didn't seem to hear her at all, but a little, sinister smile appeared on his face. He actually seemed to be enjoying her struggle. Blood streamed over the lower part of his arms and wrists, but he kept ignoring it. The cold water felt terrible on her skin. Meanwhile he washed the dirt off with the washcloth. After he had finally finished washing all the dirt and soap out, he took a towel with his free hand. She was trembling and shaking because of the cold. He wrapped her up, and roughly dried her. She meowed in discomfort, but didn't fight to escape. She doubted she had the energy for that, since her body was probably giving everything to keep herself warm after that icy bath.

"See, it wasn't that bad," he mused.

He took her, still wrapped up in the towel, and carefully laid her on the central heating. He quickly returned to the bathroom to wash off the blood, disinfect the wounds, and wrap a little bandage around it. When he returned to the living room, England had gotten out of the towel. Due to her injured paw, she hadn't been able to keep her balance on the central heating when she had tried to move. She pressed her body against the source of warmth. Little droplets still shimmered on her coat. When she heard Russia coming in, she looked at him for a moment, and then ran away. She hid underneath the couch, not planning to come out.

He took the towel and threw it in the trashcan; it was covered in hair anyway. He turned off the light in the bathroom and living room, and went to his bedroom. England realised it was already quite late. She was still hiding underneath the couch, but she could hear the bed softly creaking as Russia lied down. She shivered. It was really cold. When she looked aside, she noticed that the window wasn't fully closed. Cold air freely lingered into the room. She sighed. About ten minutes later, she heard soft snoring from his bedroom. She carefully got from underneath the couch. When she returned to the central heating, she was disappointed to notice that it was cooling down a little for the night. She was still trembling. Another ten minutes later, she gave up. It was really damn cold.

Silently she entered Russia's room. She jumped on the edge of his bed. Russia lay on his belly. Without making a sound, she came closer to him, and poked the edge of the blanket up. Swiftly she slipped underneath the sheets. It was warm, so awesomely warm. Russia seemed to be radiating heat. She pushed all thoughts out of her head, and snuggled up to him. The warmth, softness and peace she had missed so badly embraced her. Soon she was sleeping, her worries disappearing in unconsciousness.

* * *

**Translations:**

_Russian_  
Здравствуйте = Hello  
Да = Da

* * *

Are you happy Russia found her? Does England seem happy about it? It's going to be fun for the both of them! But at least she's got a decent place to sleep now, right? I hoped you guys enjoyed reading it, more next weekend!  
Thank you DriveByReader for betareading!

**Review~**


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter IV_

* * *

_The cat is domestic only as far as suits its own ends._

* * *

England was half awake, half asleep. It was some kind of a hazy daze. She purred; she didn't know for how long she had been purring, but she didn't mind. She was still embraced by the softness of a comfortable bed and sheets, as well as warmth. Something was softly caressing her back. It probably felt so good because she was a cat and had fur. Fingers seemed to trace invisible paths through her coat. She opened her eyes a bit, and blinked. Wait, fingers? She looked up, and saw Russia lying besides her. He was staring at the ceiling. Suddenly he moved his head, and glanced over at her. She wondered whether he had an outstandingly good timing to check on her just when she woke, but then realised she had probably drawn his attention because she had stopped purring.

"Good morning, kitty," he greeted her.

She blinked, and he slowly pushed the sheets away. He got up, and left her alone in the warm bed. It immediately felt colder without him. She wanted to protest.

"Mew," she sleepily tried.

He looked at her, and smiled kindly. "Aw, you are so adorable."

She blinked, slightly confused. It was a little early for compliments. Russia only wore a long sleeved T-shirt, some plain blue pyjama pants, and of course underwear. He stretched for a moment, and yawned as he left for the bathroom. She followed his movements, before closing her eyes again, and enjoying the warm bed. England had no idea how many minutes had passed, but he seemed to have showered and dressed in merely a few seconds. He came closer to her, but she pretended he was not there. Maybe he was like a one of those dinosaur monsters America had told her about; if you won't move, they won't see you.

"Wake up," he said in a friendly voice.

He didn't bother to touch her, and he let her be. He took his phone with him when he left the room again, but before leaving her completely alone, he turned to her. "Don't do anything. If you mess up, I won't be happy."

Finally, he left her alone in the hotel room, with that threat lingering around. She ignored it, and took a deep breath. There was no way she'd get up. It was way too comfortable. She could seriously just do nothing like this for hours. Maybe being a cat had its benefits.

About twenty minutes later, Russia returned to the room. When she heard the door open, and Russia entered, the smell of food danced through the air. It had quickly convinced England that she'd better get up. Lazily she started stretching.

"Cat?" Russia called from the living room.

She jumped of the bed, but when landing on her two front paws, the sharp pain returned to her left paw. She let out a startled squeak, and beautifully failed in landing. While she got back on her legs, Russia was already standing a few feet from her. He bent down to her. She held her left paw up, feeling the terrible burning pain return. There was an emotion in his eyes, but she couldn't exactly place it. Was it pity, doubt, concern, or something else? He carefully picked her up.

Even though she was capable of walking, she let him hold her. He put her down on the couch, and took out the food he had taken with him from the breakfast buffet. It was wrapped up in a napkin, and he opened it for her. It was just some ham, but it smelled like some wonderful French dish. She eagerly started eating, and was delighted at the great taste of simple ham. She was slightly creeped out when she noticed that Russia was just staring at her with a little smile all the time. She found it a tiny bit disturbing to be watched like this while eating, but tried to ignore it.

When she was ready, he took another jacket of his. He picked her up again, and laid it over her. She meowed weakly as a protest, but he poked her, rather hard, to silence her. She wondered where he'd be taking her, and suddenly was struck with an ominous feeling. He had left without anything else but her. Maybe he was going to dump her somewhere, or give her to someone, or whatever. She couldn't think of many positive things.

After about twenty minutes of worrying herself, she was finally freed from the jacket. She was immediately hit by the vague scent of other animals.

"Oh sir, you're lucky, we're just open, come in." A woman greeted them.

They entered some kind of strange smelling room, and she was put down on some kind of a table. Immediately it hit her where they were. The veterinary.

"What a nice cat," the vet said, "How can I help you?"

Russia smiled, "Just check him for stuff, and I think there's something wrong with his left front paw."

England meowed annoyed. She wasn't a man, for goodness sake.

"Okay, did he have his shots? Did anything happen?"

Russia shrugged, "Well, actually, he's my neighbour's cat, but my neighbour is already too old and gave him to me. It's been long ago since I've had a cat."

"I see," the vet said, and she nodded slowly.

_What a fluent liar_, England noted, but not with pleasure. The vet started feeling her up, and she meowed in discomfort. She tried to shake her off, but the woman just continued, no matter how much England tried.

"Oh, but, it's a female cat, sir," the vet noticed.

Finally, they found out. It was about time they stopped confusing her for a male. Russia just blinked, not having considered that.

"The old man must've been confused. I've only had the cat for a few days, I should've checked."

_No, you should've not checked anything at all_, she thought to herself, _I'd like you to respect my privacy._

"Well, she seems healthy," the woman said after several minutes of annoying England, "Except for that paw indeed, and I'll need to vaccinate her."

Russia merely nodded. It took England a few seconds to realise what this meant. Needles. Usually she wouldn't have had any problem with that. Except that they were huge. It was probably just from her point of view, but they were really big and terrifying. Besides, she didn't need any vaccinations. She was a nation-cat under influence of magic, she wouldn't get infected with anything! She tried to escape, but the vet was faster.

A few minutes later the vet said she'd be right back. England had gotten her vaccinations, but not without having dug her nails deeply into the vet's skin. It hadn't even hurt that much, but it wasn't anything nice either. Russia had just watched the vet struggle, with that little enjoying smile playing on his face. When the vet had left them alone for a moment to take a little care of the cuts, Russia stroked her.

"Good cat," Russia mused happily, as if he was proud of her stubborn behaviour.

_That's not what you're supposed to say, idiot_. England sighed. She allowed him to pet her though. As long as he was happy she probably shouldn't fear anything. At least she hoped so.

The vet returned, and started taking care of her injured paw, being more careful this time. England allowed her to do something about that without much of a struggle. The vet carefully wrapped a bandage around it.

"I'll leave it like this for a while, make sure nothing happens to her paw. You should come back within a week to check on how it's going, okay?"

Russia vaguely nodded. The vet had a satisfied smile on her face when she was done. Suddenly a thought seemed to pop up in her head.

"Sir, if you don't know a lot about cats, maybe you should consider giving her to the animal shelter? I bet there are plenty of people who'd want to have a cat like her."

England glared at the vet. This couldn't be seriously happening. When she shot a glance at Russia's face, she saw he was actually considering the idea. She meowed softly, hoping it would sound cute. For a brief moment she thought she saw a friendly, soft expression return to his face. It quickly faded away and his seriousness returned.

"I'd like to keep her for a few days, and then I'll decide," he eventually said.

The vet frowned slightly. "That might not be a very good idea, you see, the cat might get confused or-"

Russia cut her off with a sinister smile, "Nyet, I didn't ask for your opinion. I said I'm going to keep her a few days and then decide."

The woman was taken aback by Russia's rudeness, and also looked uncomfortable because of his sudden moodswing. England didn't think that he should've reacted in such a fashion, but she honestly didn't mind it this time. She wanted the vet to shut up and start saying things that would actually be useful. Like how you should never bathe a cat in ice cold water.

"Err, of course, okay. So, I'll tell you how to take care of the cat?" she asked, cautiously and nervously.

Russia nodded, and she tried to smile pleasantly. The vet started talking about basic things like food, sleeping, toys, and others. Every once in a while Russia would ask a question, and pay attention to what she said. It seemingly made the woman more comfortable.

"I'll write down what you'll have to buy, okay? That'll be easier to remember, cat food and such. Always make sure she only eats meat, because cats can't digest vegetables and others. Don't give her normal milk either, only special milk for cats. Cats are very picky, so she might not eat certain things because of her preferences. She should be used to using a litter, but if not, you should make sure she'll learn it."

England studied Russia's face. He was concentrated, listening and thinking about what she said. Sometimes he'd shoot a brief glance at her. She hoped that all the things the vet summed up wouldn't make Russia go back on his idea to keep her.

"Okay," he said eventually, "Um, and if I keep her, do I need to know more?"

The woman pursed her lips for a moment, "Just all what I told you, but if you decide to keep her you have to make clear rules for her. It's best if you never allow her to get on the counters or table. You'll have to be consistent as well. Also, she'll have to get used to you, and the best way to do that is by talking to her."

Russia frowned, "Talking to her? About what?"

The vet gave him a weird look, "It's not like she understands you, anything is fine. Just speak in a casual way, without sounding angry or overjoyed. That way she'll be able to tell her owner apart by voice easily, and she'll get used to having you somewhere around too."

England protested loudly at the word 'owner'. She wasn't being owned by anyone! Russia looked down at her. He reached out one hand to stroke her gently. That wasn't what she had asked for, but at least she didn't feel ignored.

"Um, okay," he took the list in his free hand, and his eyes wandered over the words, "Just one more question."

"Yes?"

Russia eyed her with slight concern, "What's wrong with her ears?"

The vet blinked. England was a little surprised. Of course she didn't have a mirror to look in, and hadn't thought about that when trying to survive outside. Now she really wanted to know what she looked like. Luckily, the vet didn't look concerned, just rather surprised for Russia asking that.

"It's quite typical for them, didn't you know? It's a Scottish Fold, some of the Scottish Folds have ears like this, and others have normal ears. You don't have to worry about it. Just watch out when she's with other cats, they might get confused and misunderstand her completely."

"Okay," Russia said, with a little smile, "Then I'll take her with me now, da?"

The vet nodded, "If you want, you can get her a collar, there's a nearby shop where you can already fetch some things you'll need."

Russia smiled and thanked the vet; he paid her the money she asked for and left. He carried England, and went to the shop the woman had told him about. He needed to have a pet carrier for her most of all.

They entered the shop and he started wandering around and picking out things. She just calmly watched him doing everything silently, resting in his arms. She was actually pretty comfortable. Eventually he bought a pet carrier, food, and some other minor supplies. He couldn't smuggle her in the hotel without causing suspicion if he'd have all the things on the list with him. When they finally went to the checkout, Russia was distracted once again. England looked at the thing in his hand with horror.

"You got a pretty cat there, female, right?"

Russia looked at the shopkeeper, "Da."

"What kind of collar are you looking for?" he asked, friendly.

Russia's eyes darted over the fabrics, colours and accessories. He shrugged. His fingers traced the collars, and he stopped at one with a bell. Softly he poked it, and the light sound of the bell shortly played through the air.

"I've got more collars with bells," the shopkeeper offered.

There were some more collars shown, and England meowed unhappily. Before she could think of a plan to escape, Russia put her on the counter. In a fluid movement, the man had put the collar on. She was startled and immediately started to try to get the thing off, but failed. Russia smiled happily. He paid the shopkeeper for everything, and tried to get England in the pet carrier. She was still trying to get the collar off, and refused to get into the thing. Just before the shopkeeper wanted to help a hand, Russia harshly shoved her into the pet carrier, making her squeak out a surprised meow.

Even inside the box, England was preoccupied with trying to get the collar off. She didn't want to wear it! This thing said she was property of Russia. He owned her. The thoughts were not pleasing, and she continued to try to get the thing off. It was hard though, because she was constantly smacking into the plastic walls of the pet carrier. She had the feeling Russia was swinging the thing around. Eventually he somehow managed to slip into the hotel through some entrance at the backside of the hotel. He let her get out of the plastic box of torture. A little grin played on his face as he watched her continue to struggle with the collar.

He sighed softly, and mumbled to no one in particular, "Little one, maybe you'll be worth the trouble. I hope you'll be worth it."

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This is a looong chapter! England is now property of Russia, in theory. Though, who can truly _own_ a cat? I hoped this chapter was interesting enough. What do you think of England's behaviour? Next chapter will be up next weekend.

**Review~ !**


	5. Chapter 5 except it's not

OH MY

you just noticed

I DIDN'T UPDATE

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*dramatic music starts playing*

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I can explain.. really.. I have not so very good news. You see, I had too much stuff on my laptop, so, I put all my images and documents on my external hard drive. Guess what happened? It's a really funny story. _I dropped it._

SEEMS LIKE HARD DRIVES AREN'T MADE FOR THROWING THEM AROUND

So most of my stuff is still saved elsewhere, but the most recent files are gone. A lot of chapters that weren't posted yet are also gone. I'm pissed. So, I'm sorry, but I can't update right now. **Chapter 5 will be updated next Wednessday**.

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**A GOOD DAY TO YOU ALL, WANKERS**

:)


	6. Chapter 5

_Chapter V_

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_While many parts of Europe and North America consider the black cat a sign of bad luck, in Britain, black cats are considered lucky._

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Russia sat on the couch with a glass of vodka in his hand as he watched England struggle with her collar for a few minutes. He stretched his arm out to pet her, but England immediately noticed the movement, and jumped up. Suddenly having forgotten about the collar, she sprinted away and hid somewhere behind the curtains. She heard him stand up, and hoped he wasn't coming after her. His footsteps faded away, and she heard them faintly continue in another room. He returned to the room she was hiding in a while later.

"Cat? Kitty?" he called after her.

She didn't make a sound and listened warily. The footsteps came nearer, but not specifically in her direction. He suddenly roughly snatched the curtains aside, giving her a bloody heart attack, which resulted in a very weird jump. Without thinking, she ran as fast as she could. She felt his hand grab for her just too late, and she managed to get underneath the bed. She was trying to catch her breath, and could feel her heart beating loudly. Russia bent down to her. She looked into his violet eyes, as she pressed against the wall, and hid in the darkest corner. He sighed.

"I will put newspapers in the corner, da? You pee there. Otherwise you will regret ever having set foot here. I mean set paw here."

_You were the one to carry me in_, she scowled inwardly. Not that she could tell him. She meowed. He seemed to take it as an agreement. He left the room again. She realised she actually would like to make use of a toilet. When she came near the newspapers he had laid in the corner of the room, she sighed. She wouldn't ever think about peeing here. Certainly not knowing that Russia was just a few meters away, and he'd be able to see her if he'd move a few steps.

"Cat," Russia called again from the other room, reminding her of what she had become every time he did.

She slowly wandered over to him. He was in the living room, on his knees, next to the sofa. He looked a lot less threatening on his knees. She carefully came closer, and tried to see what he was doing. Keeping her distance, she saw he had cat food. He put it on a plate, and gave her a little more space to come nearer.

"Eat kitty," he tried to encourage her.

Warily, she came closer. She sniffed the food. It didn't smell that bad, actually. On the other hand, there was no way she would eat it. She started to doubt what she should do. Food wasn't a bad idea; she was really hungry and it didn't look like poison or anything. Then again, she really didn't want to eat cat food. It felt like it would be another step into accepting that she was and would be a cat for a while. She didn't want to.

She sat down, and stared at the food. In a split second she reminded herself that Russia was next to her. She looked up at him, and met his questioning eyes. He looked at her, not coming any closer. After a few seconds, he slowly pushed the food closer to her. She didn't make a move. The longer she waited and refused to eat, the more stubborn she became. She was now glaring at the food. The next second a big hand pressed her head forwards, causing it to sink in the wet food. Immediately she forced herself out of his grip and escaped, feeling the sticky food on her face. She meowed loudly, and hissed when he reached out his hand for her. He looked confused, as if he had expected her to start eating it. Maybe he did. _Of course_, she thought to herself, _if there's one nation to pick me up, it's got to be the one that has no idea of how to treat a living being_.

Russia stood up again, and took the plate of food with him. She watched him as he threw it away. He put his jacket on and left, without saying another word. She gulped. No, he couldn't have made up his mind already. He wasn't going to give her away, was he? She felt a twist in her stomach. If she had only been nicer, and hadn't run away every time, it would've ended better. Well, it would've helped if he hadn't been such a freak and generally so lacking in knowledge about these things. Though right now, she'd forgive him, if it meant he'd not give her away to some creepy stranger. She shivered. Slightly disheartened, she wandered out of the living room. She jumped onto Russia's bed, and sneaked underneath the sheets. In the process, she left brown streaks from the cat food that still stuck to her face. She didn't want to be given to a stranger. Carefully she lied down. Whether she was tired or lazy, she didn't care, and she closed her eyes.

Ten minutes later, at the sound of the door opening, she woke immediately. Normally, she wouldn't have moved, but now she felt like she had to check whether he hadn't brought anyone with him; or whether he wasn't packing her stuff or even searching for her, to take her away. Silently, she went to the living room. He looked surprised to see her come to see him, rather than hiding. He bent down to his knees, and stretched his arm out. In his palm was a handkerchief, and on it was some meat. She came closer. It smelled nice. When she was standing right next to his hand, she noticed the meat was still warm. It was probably some chicken. Just when she wanted to take a bite, she saw from the corner of her eye that he stretched out his other hand to pet her. She backed away a little, but didn't want to go too far away from the meat either. She shot a glance at him. Russia smiled calmly and patiently.

"Come on, kitty."

She blinked, and came a little closer again. Carefully, picking up a chunk of meat, she felt his big, strong hand on her back. As soon as she had a piece of chicken in her mouth, she backed away, far enough to be safe from his touch. His smile dropped a little.

"Kitty," he whispered, drawing his hand back a little.

She gave up. There was no way to get around it. She had to choose between food and touch or no touch, and no food. Her hunger was stronger, and she came closer again. As if it were automatic, his smile became brighter again. She grabbed a piece of meat, allowed him to pet her once, and then took some distance to peacefully eat. He patiently watched her as she ate, waiting until she returned for more food.

After a few minutes, his hand was empty, except for the handkerchief. She meowed, hoping he had more. He tried to stroke her again but she stepped back. He got up again, and sat down in the couch. He put the empty handkerchief away. On the little coffee table lay some papers and his laptop. He started reading and typing. She curiously tiptoed through the room. There should be enough things to keep her busy with, no?

She was disappointed when she noticed after a while that Russia had neatly put everything away, and cleaned. She didn't mind tidiness, but now there was nothing to examine, to check out or to play with.

About a half hour later she went back to Russia. He seemed to have completely forgotten about her and was typing away on his laptop. When she jumped on the couch besides him, she saw he was still working. She had some energy, and wanted to play or do anything that would take away the feeling of boredom. Russia yawned, took a cup of coffee that stood on the table, realised it was empty and put it back again. He still didn't seem to notice her, and continued typing. She wished she could at least read what he was doing. As she had expected though, his laptop and everything he looked up was in Russian. She stared dumbly at his screen. He was looking some things up on the internet, but there was only text. She lay down next to him, against his leg. For a moment he looked aside at her. He had a slightly surprised look on his face, and then smiled. She was happy when he didn't try to pet her.

Time passed slowly, and she had fallen half-asleep. She was still awake enough to feel Russia's hand softly caress her. _That bastard_, she thought to herself, _now I'm too lazy to move_. He continued working calmly with one hand, and stroked her with the other one.

Another twenty minutes later, he shut his laptop down and stood up. It was already evening, and the room was getting dark. When he left her alone on the couch, he seemed to have taken all the warmth with him. She blinked, and slowly got up too. Russia went to his room, and started undressing himself. She turned and went the other way, not wanting to intrude on his privacy. As she went back to the couch, she realised she would like to pee. Actually she needed to do that pretty badly. She went to the toilet, but the door was closed. She tried to open the door by poking it, but obviously it didn't move. Annoyed she started meowing. Just a few seconds later, Russia appeared in his pyjamas. He came nearer, and frowned.

"Toilet?" he asked, as if he expected her to answer that.

She meowed again, and scratched the door. He opened it for her, and let her in. Last time England had used a toilet, she hadn't been cat-sized. This was an obvious problem she hadn't thought of. She came closer to the toilet. When she stood next to it, her idea of just jumping on the edge suddenly seemed like a very dangerous stunt. Russia walked away, and she sighed. She couldn't do anything here now, and she still had to pee. Within a few seconds, Russia had returned with the newspapers. He laid them on the ground next to the toilet, and left her alone again. The door was almost closed, but she would be able to sneak out. She stared at the newspapers for several minutes, trying to think of what to do. She actually started reading them. No way to avoid the issue though, she had to do it somewhere, somehow. This seemed like this was the best option available.

When she went back to Russia's room, she noted that he was in the main bathroom, brushing his teeth. She already took place in his bed, though it was cold. A few minutes later Russia also entered the bedroom. He frowned when he looked at her. She lay in the middle of the bed, not feeling like moving. When he came closer, she decided that maybe moving aside was a better idea than being crushed by his body. He lay down next to her, and lifted the sheets. She didn't want to get underneath them, and just stayed where she was.

"Goodnight," he murmured, and turned on his side.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the faint warmth she felt through the sheets. Life was starting to get a little more peaceful. Maybe she would be able to get used to this. Maybe this wasn't so bad. The room was silent, except for Russia's deep, regular breath. _Goodnight Russia_.

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I hoped you guys enjoyed this chapter! This weekend the next chapter will be up, and I hope I can get the chapters done in time to continue updating weekly. I don't think my hard drive can be saved, so the chapters that have been lost are lost, and I'll have to rewrite them.

**Review~**


	7. Chapter 6

_Chapter VI_

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_A cat is a tiger that is fed by hand._

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England woke up the next morning when Russia got up. She got up as well, stretched, and tiptoed after him. He took some clothes and went to the bathroom. She chose to laze around on the couch, as she waited for him. After quickly showering, shaving, doing his hair and brushing his teeth, he came back, dressed and ready for the day. She jumped off the couch, and watched him walk to his bedroom, his phone in his hand.

"Meow," she complained.

_I'm hungry._

"What's wrong?" he answered, without looking up from his phone.

"Meow," she tried again.

_Hungry!_

It couldn't be that hard to understand, right? He looked up to her, just for a second, "Shht, don't do that."

"Meoow~" she challenged him.

He snapped his head to her, sending her a threatening glare. England mentally grinned. She was amused with his irritation; it was probably the most entertaining thing she had seen in days.

"Meeooooow~"

"You're doing this on purpose," he growled, "You little minx."

He came closer to her. _Oh snap_. England quickly moved aside, but he had cornered her. Without thinking about it, she sprinted away, between his long legs. He turned around, and continued chasing her for a moment. Then he suddenly stopped.

"Cat. Come here," he said, pointing at the floor at his feet.

He sighed, and just when he wanted to pick up his phone again, she popped up. She slowly crept near him. When he bent over to catch her, she raced away again. He groaned softly in frustration, and got out his phone. He dialled a number. She watched how he waited for the other person to answer his call. He caught her stare from the corner of his eyes, and she ducked away behind the couch. She heard him talking in Russian. Even though she didn't understand a single word, she could figure out by his intonation that he was having a serious talk and maybe even was a little frustrated by the other person. He hung up a moment later, and sat down on the couch. He opened his laptop. The white light reflected on his pale face. She watched him type away. He looked like he wasn't in a very cheerful mood. She realised that he might have seriously gotten pissed off because of her. That wasn't a good thing. He had to like her. He couldn't dislike her, because that would equal him giving her away. In the worst case he'd even just dump her on the streets again. And she was still hungry.

England had fell asleep on Russia's bed. About a half hour later, she was awakened by the smell of meat. Immediately she hopped out of the bed and trotted into the living room. As she had expected, there lay a plate on the coffee table, next to Russia's papers. It was a sandwich with something, but she couldn't see it from her point of view. The tall man noticed her.

"Cat," he said, and pointed to a small plate that lay next to him on the couch, "Breakfast."

She happily jumped on the couch, and started eating the ham. It was tasty. He looked at her, and huffed softly.

"You are not very smart. You could've been dead right now, if I were still mad at you."

England gave him a look. _Seriously?_ She could've been dead the moment he saw her. Every second spent with Russia could be her last. Even sleeping next to him was a danger because he was a bloody giant man, and only needed to roll over to crush her. She really didn't need a reminder, because she really couldn't care less. Especially now, because she had food, so she ignored him.

When he had finished breakfast, he shut down his laptop and started putting his papers away. He had neatly cleaned everything from the table, and stood up. She followed him as he went to the bedroom. Gracefully, she jumped on his bed, and watched him doing stuff from there. He took his suitcase, and started taking his clothes out of the closet. _Wait, why are you…_ she realised what he was doing. She immediately felt bad. If he were leaving, he needed to take her with him. She couldn't think of a way to figure out whether he would do that. He also packed her stuff, but that could mean anything. Maybe he'd bring her somewhere, and then he'd give them her stuff as well. She wasn't happy. She stared at him, and he continued packing.

"What's wrong?" Russia asked her, when she got up and came closer to him.

He was nearly finished, and stood up to get his stuff from the bathroom. He disappeared for a moment. She jumped into his suitcase. Carefully she snuck between his pants, because she didn't need to ruin his shirts, nor did she want to hide in his underwear. Russia returned. He didn't notice her at first, and bent down to his suitcase again.

"Meow."

He looked a bit startled, but calmed down when he saw where she was. A little smile tugged his lips. He gently caressed her, and picked her up.

"We're moving, kitty," he explained, "That's why I'm packing stuff. You need to be packed as well, da?"

_Please don't say you're putting me in a suitcase_, she repeated in her head until he took the pet carrier. Before he could shove her in the thing again, she willingly entered it. Russia finished packing a few other things, and she patiently waited. She was a good cat. Occasionally he said something out loud, and she'd respond to him.

"Almost ready, cat."

"Meow."

"Are you okay?"

"Meow."

"I should probably get us some food."

"Meow~!"

He gathered everything, put the pet carrier in a bag, which he covered with something, and they left. He had probably covered it with a jacket, because she could recognize his scent very well. It didn't smell bad, just Russia. She heard him open a car, and was put inside. She felt a little relieved when she heard him placing the other things near her.

"Mew," she softly called him.

Russia had heard her, "It's okay kitty, shht. Don't worry."

Even though that wasn't any guarantee for her safety, she tried to trust him. She tried to calm herself down. Worrying wouldn't change anything, so even if it would end up badly, her frustration wouldn't save her. When he had closed the car, and left, it became silent. He was probably signing out of the hotel. She listened to the muffled sounds of passing cars outside the vehicle. She wondered what his car looked like, but of course she was stuck inside the carrier, in a bag. Before she could try to open the lock, the door was opened again. The jacket that covered her was taken away, and the carrier was picked out of the bag. She was shortly lifted in the air, before he put the carrier down again. She could make out he had placed her on the passenger seat.

"Stay here cat," Russia said calmly, and closed the door.

He walked around the car, to the other side, and got into the driver's seat. He put another small bag on the back seats. She hoped that her stuff wasn't in that bag, because that could mean he was going to give her away. He started the car. The motor roared loudly.

"Careful kitty, some people say I'm a dangerous driver. In case they're right, please don't die. I'd be sad."

_You sir, have mental issues. You really do. Just what the f-_

Her thoughts were roughly interrupted because Russia pressed down on the gas, seemingly with all his power, and the car shot forwards. The laws of physics pressed her little body against the plastic wall of the carrier. He got between two other cars, and continued driving. She shook her head, trying to make sure whether everything was still on its place there. It was kind of hard to concentrate, because Russia apparently thought English roads equalled a racing circuit. Not only his speed was making her feel slightly queasy, but his abrupt stops and turns were just as bad.

_For goodness sake, do you want us to die?!_

"Meoow!"

He glanced over to her, "What's wrong? You don't need to pee, right?"

"Meow!" That was cat for: _Keep your bloody eyes on the road!_

"I hope you don't need to pee. That would smell bad."

"Meooow!" _Fucking wrong side of the road!_

Russia's eyes returned to the road, and he quickly got back on the right side, err, the left. He seemed lost in thoughts for a moment. He drove a little less maniacally. Eventually he turned to her again.

"Cat, I don't know where I can stop to let you pee. I never saw cat toilets along the road. You'll have to keep it in."

_Yeah, I know the thread, just focus on where you're going_. She tried to calm herself down. He still drove with abrupt stops and turns, but it became less frequent on the highway. She was glad that being inside the pet carrier, she couldn't see the other cars or the road. England didn't want to know how fast they were going, she didn't need another heart attack.

A little over one hour later, she was used to his driving. She just lazily lay in her place. She only noticed they were somewhere when Russia pulled the handbrake, and turned the motor off. Calmly, she stretched, and tried to see where they were.

"We're here. I'll ask whether you can pee somewhere," Russia said as he patted her head, and got out of the car.

Russia lifted the pet carrier, and allowed her to look through the window. "Here we are."

They were at an airport; she realised it when she saw the buildings and heard the sound of airplanes. It slowly sank through her skull what was going on. Images of snowy, lifeless landscapes, and of old and forgotten villages filled her mind. They were going to Russia.

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I almost forgot to update this. DEAR READERS the next update might be procrastinated because I'm having exams and I need to scrape together the bits of chapters that I can find back, and rewrite whatever I can't fine back. This is time consuming! I will update at least within two weeks.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Yes, Russian drivers can be dangerous, check it out on youtube. Yes, crazy Russian drivers are a stereotype that is unpleasantly close to reality. Eastern-Europe generally isn't really fond of wearing seatbelts anyway, for as far as I know.

**Review~**


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